


If We Go Down (Then We Go Down Together)

by loammy_jean



Category: One Direction (Band), Paris - The Chainsmokers (Song)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Harry's parents and Louis' grandparents are not the people they are in real life, Hypocrisy, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Past Minor Character Death (mentioned), Savior Complex, Themes of Adoption, Themes of Coercion, american fic, and i didn't want to demonize them if you know what i mean, and i don't know anything about how they do it in England, because i know about the foster/adoption system over here, eventually, fucked up family situations, high school fic, i'll add tags as i go!, side Ziam, so they're OCs, they aren't actually very nice people in this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:05:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loammy_jean/pseuds/loammy_jean
Summary: Louis doesn't cope well with sorting through his feelings, often tries to pretend they don't exist. He's a natural "fixer", always needing to solve the problems of others in order to hide from his own. He's not using Harry, per se, when he stumbles upon the state of Harry's home life - he's helping a person in need and, conveniently, distracting himself. That is, until he receives a message on Facebook from one Lottie Tomlinson, whose eyes are the same shade of cerulean as his, whose nose has the same tiny ski jump at the end. Suddenly, Louis is forced to come to terms with the illusions he's built for himself, and he has to decide what's more important - saving Harry from himself and blindly fumbling into the unknown, or admitting that Harry's behavior is no more toxic than his own.Or: Louis has always wondered about his biological parents, if only fleetingly; Harry has a habit of leading a life that isn't real to protect himself; and Lottie is in search of the older brother her parents were forced to abandon nearly seventeen years ago.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the basis of this story goes to The Chainsmokers and their song Paris! In the music video, The Chainsmokers define Paris as "1. a sentimental yearning for a reality that isn't genuine, 2. an irrevocable condition for fantasy that evokes nostalgia or daydreams." That's really the basis of this story - the idea that, to an extent, we all experience this, just not always to the same degree.
> 
> If there are any errors with the way the American foster system is portrayed, those mistakes are entirely mine! However, I was in foster care in 2006, and the story takes place in 2009, so it should be very close!
> 
> Also, one final note! I do not know/own One Direction, or any of their family members! This is purely a work of fiction, and I hope you enjoy it very much. Please do not alert anyone associated with One Direction of this story. This is for fandom use only.

It's complicated, is the thing.

It's Registration Day, exactly four days before the start of junior year, and Louis is shifting awkwardly from side to side as he walks around the main building of the school's campus with Niall, trying not to get in anyone's way. Usually, Louis doesn't mind being in the way - at least, not at school - but he's starting to feel a bit claustrophobic, and so he holds onto the tail of Niall's white T-shirt and lets his friend steer him around. Niall's still got his sunglasses on, even though the fluorescents are far too dim to need protection from them, and Louis would normally take the piss out of Niall for it, but not today. He's not in the mood. Really, Louis just doesn't feel like himself today. Sometimes it's hard to tell what that means at all.

This isn't the first time they've had to do this - they did it last year, too. But that doesn't make it less nerve-wracking to ask the lady at the front desk if he can have a copy of the paperwork they were supposed to come with. His hands shake inside of his pockets as he tells her that his dad's outside and that they misplaced the paperwork and he'll have to fill it out.

The receptionist looks less than impressed, but she doesn't object, and Louis doesn't tell her that his dad isn't actually outside, that his dad is buried in a cemetery two towns over. Actually, Louis has gotten quite good at - well, not forgetting it, because it's impossible to forget, but compartmentalizing it instead. Ever since he was a child, emotion has been something he's not good at dealing with. And like with so many other things, since he's not good at it, he doesn't do it at all.

They take the paperwork back outside, to where Niall's dad, Bobby, is sitting on a bench in the shade. The crown of his balding head has turned splotchy, and Louis wonders how much time he spent milling about on the pavilion before finally settling in the tiny shadow cast by the building behind them. Bobby fills out Louis' information, asking a few assorted questions here and there, and Louis forges the name Troy Austin at the bottom of the page. 

He's gotten pretty good at that over the last year and a half, too.

At this point, Niall's parents don't even ask questions about Louis' foster parents, don't ask why it is that they don't take Louis to do the things that are, bare minimum, required of a parental figure. Most of the time, they don't ask questions when Louis brings Waliyha with him to their house, either, unannounced. 

Waliyha sits on Maura's lap, and Maura weaves long, pale fingers through Louis' ten year old sister's thick, dark hair, tying it into a neat plait. They already ran by the primary school and enrolled Waliyha earlier in the day, and she's getting a bit restless now that all she's really doing is waiting around. Louis can see that, can see the light flush in her deeply tanned skin, can see the way she squirms on Maura's lap, even as she yammers on about a subject Louis hasn't even grasped yet and probably never will. The kid's too smart for her own good. 

Louis does well enough not to fall asleep in class, let alone pay attention. Niall doesn't pay much attention, either, but he always ends up somehow making an A. Must be a luck-of-the-Irish thing, Louis decides, squinting as the sun tries to singe his retinas from over Niall's shoulder. Fucking Niall. Everything always works out for Niall. And Louis can't even resent him for it, because Niall is such a good person that it would be a crying shame if it didn't. The entire Horan family is that way. They're so genuinely good that it almost makes Louis' stomach turn.

Maura uses her free hand to give Louis the sheet of paper on the bench between her and Bobby - a copy of the temporary custody agreement the Department of Child Services gave Troy and Belinda. Last year was a clusterfuck without it. Louis doesn't want to go through that all over again. Louis smiles, and he finds himself grinding his teeth as he and Niall double back inside to turn in their paperwork together. They're like brothers, in a way, and Louis is grateful for that, but it does seem to complicate things. He's already got more siblings than he knows how to juggle without the addition of Niall into the mix. It's a good thing Niall is pretty low-maintenance - he never asks for anything, but for his last birthday, Louis got him a three-meat pizza and a gift card to the used CD shop a few blocks away and he thought Niall might combust from joy.

That's a lot better a subject to think about, Louis decides as he and Niall turn in their paperwork. Mrs. Frampton sits at a table with a severe expression and a tight bun, glancing over her glasses at Niall and Louis, and she hardly bats an eyelash as she glances over the temporary custody agreement. Louis never was her favorite student, and there's no reason for her to start pitying him now. He prefers it that way.

Louis doesn't miss the way she pointedly makes pleasant conversation with Niall while ignoring him. Everybody loves Niall. Louis wonders, vaguely, if he should stop being such a little shit in class. Maybe teachers would like him better then. But the students think he's pretty funny, so he's not sure if it's worth the trade. 

"Nialler!" Louis almost flinches at the abrupt interruption in his train of thought, and he looks over his shoulder as Niall politely ends the conversation with Mrs. Frampton and slides out of line.

"Harry!" Niall replies, beaming, and now Louis knows where he recognizes that voice from. He hasn't heard it since the start of the summer, and he bristles slightly at the attached face, wishing he wasn't hearing it now, either.

The tall, gangly kid shuffles through the masses of people milling about to get from the double doors to where Niall and Louis stand, about twenty feet off. He's wearing this big, dopey smile, and he's got gigantic, green doe eyes, and everything about him screams enthusiasm. He's wearing a shirt that's supposed to be for some band, Louis is certain, that has never once hit the radio, and the black skinny jeans he's poured himself into look like they could be the only pair he owns, as destroyed as they are. Funny, considering Harry Styles has more money to his name than Louis has seen in his entire life.

Well, Louis doesn't know that for a fact, but the Range Rover he drove to pick Niall up from Louis' house says enough about that, doesn't it? Come to think of it, it was pretty damn presumptuous of Niall and Harry to think it would be okay for Harry to know where Louis lives, to potentially come inside and see the state of things, without even asking Louis. It's like - Troy and Belinda weren't home, and Niall knew that, but that doesn't make it okay.

Louis reckons Niall is Niall, though, and there's no use in being angry about it. It was months ago, anyway. Harry probably doesn't even remember going to pick Niall up from there in the first place. Niall has so many friends that Harry's probably picked him up from the homes of half the students in their grade, just in the time that Harry's had his license. 

"Hey, Lou." It's too earnest and too kind, and Louis doesn't trust it. He definitely doesn't trust the over-familiar nickname. For Niall's sake, he tries not to glare too hard.

He nods once, an acknowledgement. "Harry."

"Have you guys registered for your parking spaces yet?" Somehow, even though Niall and Louis were just in line and hadn't determined a destination, Louis finds that the three of them are walking together, back around the front office and toward the gym, where that particular registration is. Louis doesn't even remember when his feet started moving, or who decided they were going that way - or going at all.

"We were just about to start that way," Niall says, radiant as ever, and maybe it was Niall who chose the path. Having some dignity, Louis ignores the clammy feeling on his skin as they squeeze past the multitude of students and parents in the corridor, and he valiantly fights the urge to grab onto Niall's shirt again. He's not going to look like some kicked-puppy reject in front of Harry, whose enthusiasm and wholesomeness is so annoying that Louis can barely see straight in his presence. When Harry and Niall are together, Niall becomes so blindingly optimistic that it makes Louis' stomach turn; they really are a dreadful pair. Well, that may not be the case. Maybe it's just that Harry's presence makes Louis sensitive to the things that normally don't bother him all that much. That's probably it, seeing as that nobody could ever hate Niall and that Louis hates Harry strictly on the principle that he should be easier to hate.

Not Louis' finest quality, but the pettiness does seem to creep in more than he'd like to admit.

Harry chews his gum obnoxiously and pushes his sunglasses farther back on his head, pulling his long, curly hair with it, and Louis tries his damnedest not to roll his eyes. "I'm glad I ran into you guys. I was starting to think all of my friends had moved off over the summer without saying goodbye." Harry chuckles lightly, smiling, and Louis wonders what it's like to be so easily amused, to be so genuinely happy that brief little nonsense worries are the only problems you have.

Niall laughs brightly, and Louis' fingers twitch with a longing to be somewhere else, somewhere where he fits in better, somewhere where he's surrounded by people he wants to like him and not the other way around. He briefly considers going outside to sit with Bobby, Maura, and Wali. She's probably being a bit of a handful at this point, too restless for anyone to properly manage her.

Roping him back into the conversation, Harry observes, "Louis, I haven't seen you much since summer started. How've you been?"

Louis doesn't even make eye contact as he watches his feet to keep from bumping into other people. "Fine. Same old same old." It comes out as a bit of a huff, but Harry doesn't seem to notice.

"Niall says you've started working at the coffee shop? As a barista?"

It feels like a slap in the face, hearing that come out of Harry's mouth like it's a positive thing as he turns to assess the floral print shirt and designer skinny jeans and suede boots Harry's wearing. Niall must sense the fast-approaching onslaught of sharp retorts Louis is building, and he smoothly slides into the conversation, expression unchanging. "I've been thinkin' 'bout getting meself a job, too. Reckon I'd make a good assistant librarian?"

Harry practically giggles. "You'd never make it. Too loud. The patrons would be shushing you." He practically doubles over, and Louis feels a small sense of satisfaction when his stupid sunglasses slide off of his forehead and fall against his nose with a sharp thwap. 

Niall shoots a pointed look his way while Harry is distracted. His expression is blank, but Louis knows exactly what it means. 

He doesn't mind.

 

*

 

Louis doesn’t know how it happens, really. He doesn’t know how he goes from biting his tongue from bickering with Harry to accepting a ride in Harry’s giant Rover. He doesn’t remember who suggested it, or when or how Waliyha got introduced to Harry and piled into the backseat of the monstrosity. He knows that he certainly didn’t tell her to do that, but the rest of it’s a bit hazy. All he knows is that Maura and Bobby are driving off in their beaten-up Mazda and that Niall’s in the front seat, commandeering the radio, while Louis helps his sister properly buckle her seatbelt. She should probably have a booster seat - she’s very light and fairly short - but Louis isn’t even sure if it’s necessary at this stage, and he has an odd feeling that it might have been discussed when he wasn’t listening. He has to stop tuning out like that. 

Eventually, they turn up outside of Louis’ house, and Louis notices that there are no vehicles in the driveway. Did they come here so they could all hang out? In Louis’ house? Which needs to be properly cleaned and reeks of trash that hasn’t been taken off to the dump? Louis panics briefly, gripping the handle of the door tightly. Are they expecting to come inside? He can barely focus on the chatter that fills the car as Wali unbuckles and hurls herself out of the vehicle, onto the dying grass. 

Louis eyes the other boys carefully, and when he realizes they aren’t making a move to get out of the car, he feels like he can finally breathe again. But he still doesn’t know what it is that Waliyha is doing, so he gingerly opens the door and slides out to follow. When he gets inside, he notices the eerie silence. Waliyha isn’t a quiet kid - she’s only eight, and she hasn’t quite learned how to walk quietly, much less not make a ruckus in general. So Louis begins padding softly down the hall, past the dirty kitchen and toward Waliyha’s bedroom to look for her. She isn’t there, and something just doesn’t feel right, but when Louis whispers, “Wali?”, he doesn’t expect to get a reply.

But he does get a reply, in the form of rustling from the other end of the house. His footsteps are light as he heads toward the master bedroom - it’s somewhere he’s never actually set foot in, of which he would prefer to steer clear. Which is why it’s so baffling when he gently pushes the door open and finds Waliyha down on her hands and knees, one arm outstretched under the bed. Louis’ eyes widen with alarm. “Wali, what are you doing?” he hisses quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone.

She shrugs as best she can as she pries one of those Christmas cookie tins out from under the yellow-stained bed skirt. “Getting money,” she says simply, her voice soft and high like it always is when she feigns innocence. 

“Wali, you’re stealing,” he huffs, watching as she pries the lid off of the tin and unveils a few thick stacks of cash, each bundle folded over and held tight by a rubber band. They’re twenty dollar bills. 

“No, I’m not,” she insists, voice still airy. “This money is ours, Lou. They’re supposed to use it to take care of us, and they don’t. So I take it to take care of myself.”

He chews on the inside of his lip. It’s still stealing, he supposes, but she has a point. It’s not technically stealing if the money is supposed to be theirs. Louis isn’t sure how much the Social Security checks that come in the mail are supposed to amount to, but when Waliyha retrieves forty bucks and looks up at him with warm, brown eyes, he heaves a sigh. “Okay, okay. But this is just between you and me, alright? You can’t tell anybody, not even Zayn.”

“I know, I know,” she says, rolling her eyes and placing the lid back on the tin before shoving it down under the bed again. 

Extending a hand to help her up, he asks, “Why did you need that money anyway?”

“We’re going to the movies with your friends.” She shoots him a pointed look as she stands to her feet. “Duh.”

Louis doesn’t remember agreeing to that, but it makes more sense than literally any other reason he can remember for getting in Harry’s land-yacht. Fighting the urge to tell Waliyha that Harry isn’t his friend, he sighs, “Well, at least let me put it in my wallet so we don’t lose it.” As she opens the bedroom door, he adds, “What are we going to see again?”

“They said the new Avengers movie should be starting soon,” she shrugs, a bit of a skip in her step as he pulls the door closed behind him and they head down the hall to the front door.

For them not to be blood-related, Waliyha is far too much like him to do them any good. She’s a little ball of mischief, hiding behind big, brown eyes and pigtails and a pink floral skirt. It never occurred to him to look for the money - he assumed Troy and Belinda blew it all as soon as they got it. He should give her more credit.

When they climb back into Harry’s Rover, Louis feels that sinking feeling in his stomach again, and he wishes there was something else for him to be doing right now. He doesn’t know how he let this happened, but he can tell by the look on Waliyha’s face that she’s excited to be hanging out with older people. Part of that excitement might be for the Avengers, but Louis think it probably has something to do with the curly-haired boy in the driver’s seat, who never talks down to her and who always answers her questions like they’re peers. Louis eyes him warily from his seat, diagonal to Harry. He’s still got those atrocious sunglasses pushing his hair back, and he’s still smacking away at that gum like nobody’s business. And he still looks pretentious, and his car still costs more than all of Louis’ possessions combined, but Louis has to admit - the way he’s treating Waliyha is a plus. Even if he still hates Harry, at least he knows Harry does have at least one redeeming quality (read: literally one and only one).

At some point, they roll down the windows, and Waliyha giggles at the way Harry’s long hair whips around in the wind. Niall looks like he’s having the time of his life when Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen comes on the radio. He physically turns around in his seat to look back at Louis and sings, very passionately, to him, and with an awkward glance at Harry and a lot of convincing from Waliyha, Louis finally gives in by the chorus and starts belting the lyrics back at him. At “You gave me nothing at all”, Niall’s own hair gets blown into his mouth, causing him to gag and sputter, and the whole car dissolves into giggles as he wipes dramatically at his tongue with his hand. 

“Fuckin’ hate you - all of ye,” he mutters, but there’s a light in his eyes that tells Louis otherwise.

After that, the mood kind of dissipates, and Louis realizes with a start that he’s going to the movies with Niall and Harry. That he’s brought Waliyha with him. What if Waliyha wants to see more of Harry? Louis isn’t even sure he can stomach spending the duration of a two-hour film with such a pretentious asshole, much less put up with him for the sake of his kid sister. Why does he keep digging himself into these holes? Why can’t he just pay attention for one single moment and deflect problems like this?

“You okay, Lou?” Waliyha’s voice is soft as she puts her tiny hand on his. “You look pale.”

Harry glances up in the rearview mirror, and Niall turns around again, brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” he breathes, forcing a bit of a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Bit hungry, actually.”

Harry stops chomping on his gum for long enough to say, “Me too. We could go to Steak ‘N Shake after this, if everyone else is down.”

Of course, Waliyha squeals. “I love Steak ‘N Shake. Mom and Dad used to take us all the--”

Louis’ cheeks flush, and Waliyha breaks off suddenly, glancing over at Louis. “All the time, yeah,” Louis nods, smiling fondly. “Like, every Sunday night.”

Apparently, Louis is good at faking it because Harry asks, “Why’d you stop?” He wears a small smile.

Louis swallows thickly. “Not as much time for it now. You know, Wali’s got extracurriculars, and I work and stuff. Harder to get us all rounded up together.”

It’s like he can feel Waliyha and Niall both exhale deeply, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice. “What’s your favorite flavor?” he asks Waliyha.

She perks up then, grinning broadly. “Banana!”

“Sound choice,” Harry agrees, nodding congenially.

Niall snorts. “Anything from Steak ‘N Shake is a sound choice, Harold. Are you crazy?”

“Well, I don’t know about the Jamaican Jerk burger…”

“That’s just because you’re too big a wimp to take the heat,” Niall chides, filling the car with infectious laughter.

Harry rolls his eyes, and for a brief moment, Louis feels a sharp pang in his chest. He’s not sure what for, but it’s there - that’s undeniable. It feels almost like jealousy.

Rather than assessing it further, Louis turns in his seat to face Waliyha. “So how are things going with Isaac? Have you held hands yet?”

“Lou,” she gasps, scandalized as her gaze flits across the seats to Harry and Niall.

Niall grins widely. “Miss Wali, you didn’t tell me you had a little boyfriend!”

“He’s not a ‘little boyfriend’,” she huffs, folding her arms over his chest. “He’s just my boyfriend. That’s it.”

Louis snorts.

“Well, at least I have a boyfriend, Louis,” Waliyha says, making a face. “Where’s yours?”

The sound that comes out of Niall’s mouth can only be described as a cackle, and Harry noticeably fights a smile in the rearview mirror. Louis blushes deeply and turns to face the seat in front of him for the remainder of the ride.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while Louis' backstory isn't quite a secret, you learn quite a bit more about the ins and outs of it, and hopefully it's easier to understand how he ended up in the situation he's in at present. As always, let me know if there's anything you think isn't realistic. However, the entire point of Louis' story being told is that it is not "typical" - i.e., once a kid enters the system and then leaves it, they usually don't enter it again. But it isn't unheard of.
> 
> Anyway: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Feedback is great, but don't feel obligated.

The movie’s good, by Louis’ standards, which means that Waliyha thinks it’s the best thing that has ever existed in the history of cinema. When they get home, it’s already nearly dark, and Louis feels almost reluctant to part ways with Niall. What he’s not reluctant to part ways with is Harry’s honking laugh and food-stealing habits - he wouldn’t stop snatching fries off of Niall’s plate when he wasn’t looking, and Louis once caught him nicking a fry from Louis’ own. At least he had the decency to blush when Louis caught him. They didn’t make much eye contact after that.

Freshman Day falls three days after Registration Day. It’s a Thursday, set up so freshmen will be able to know their schedules and where to find their classes ahead of time, so they don’t get run over by the upperclassmen. Interestingly enough, the elementary and middle schools also start school on Freshman Day. That being said, it’s with bleary eyes and the face of a grumpy kitten that Louis finds Niall that morning, at seven o’clock sharp, ready to go. Louis repays him for his troubles when Niall stops at a gas station by buying him a very large cup of very strong coffee.

When they get Waliyha to school and they’re sitting in the car-rider line, Louis gives her a proper “first day of school” talk, and he kisses her forehead before sending her off. Then, Niall and Louis go back to Niall’s house and crash on the sectional until past noon. And fuck, Louis really needs to get his sleep schedule back on track because he starts school tomorrow and he can’t be as worn down as he feels now, with the sun filtering in through the curtains so harshly he can feel it burning his face. Niall grumbles about being hungry, and since Niall’s parents are at work, Louis finds some Eggo toaster waffles. He pops them into the toaster until they’re hard enough to make a crunch but not burnt enough to be tasteless. It’s about the only thing Louis knows how to do, in terms of cooking. He should probably get on that, considering he has a younger sister and it’s not like Troy or Belinda cook for her. It’s just hard to muster up the willpower to teach himself something like that when the kitchen is a mottle of dirty dishes and appliances he thinks have probably never been touched with a duster before, much less a sponge. Maybe he should just suck it up already.

He wishes his “parents” would suck it up for him.

It’s not like he hasn’t always gone out of his way to protect his siblings - because he has. He just never imagined he would be in a predicament when he was the only one looking out for them. For Waliyha. He’s so lucky to have Niall, honestly. Because Waliyha could catch the bus outside Troy and Belinda’s, but that’s the last thing she needs, to be ridiculed by cruel children because of the appearance of their house.

At home, it was never like this. Living with Mom and Dad, looking back on it… It seems so wholesome in retrospect. Getting in fistfights with his brother Zayn and whacking him in the face with pillows. His sister Doniya curling up on the couch with them and pretending to pick bugs off of him like he was a baby monkey. Safaa and Waliyha giggling and bickering over who got to be which princess at the tea party and forcing Louis to make the tea.

Louis has known for basically his whole life that he’s adopted. It was never hard to spot - his dad was half Pakistani, and all of his siblings’ likenesses supported that. They all had thick, black hair, the color of watermelon seeds, and warm, golden skin - a natural tan that Louis could never hope to garner. And their eyelashes - they all had such beautiful, long eyelashes. Well, Louis has pretty nice eyelashes, if he should say so himself, but not like those eyelashes. He doesn’t even look like his mom, who was overwhelmingly European - her brown hair was lighter than his, and she had green eyes and a slightly wider nose. Other than that, with Mom, it was a little blurrier, but it was still obvious on sight that they weren’t blood relatives. There was just never any denying that he didn’t belong. 

Like, obviously, he had questions. Clearly, he wanted to know about his real parents. But all his mom and dad really told him was that his biological parents were kids and couldn’t have cared for him if they’d tried. He should be grateful, honestly, and for the most part, he is. The one part he does regret, though, is the part where the people who adopted him and gave him such a beautiful childhood were killed in a car crash and left behind all five of their children. He regrets that part immensely.

He comes back to Niall’s living room, which is far lighter and airier than the one he’s grown used to, and flops down on the sofa with the waffles, a jar of peanut butter, and a butterknife. In silence, he and Niall make peanut butter sandwiches out of their waffles, and while they’re eating, Niall finds the original My Bloody Valentine on TV.

As soon as he’s finished licking the peanut butter off of his fingers, Niall nonchalantly asks, “Why do you hate Harry so much?”

It catches Louis off-guard. Why does everything have to come back to him? Louis schools his expression into one of composure. “I don’t hate Harry.”

“Coulda fuckin’ fooled me, man,” Niall snorts. “You forget sometimes that I know you, I think. It’s just not like you to actively hate someone, Lou. There’ve always been people ya didn’t like, but--”

“Niall,” Louis deadpans, staring at him. He runs a hand over his face and through his hair, pulling the fluffy, white duvet around his body. “You’re doing The Thing.”

“How do you expect me not to do The Thing when you’re actin’ crazy, Lou? Kid hasn’t done nothin’ to ya. There are people who actually do things to you who you don’t bat an eye at, an’ with Harry, you’re just - well, you’re a bit crazy.”

“I’m not crazy, Neil,” Louis says pointedly. “I just don’t like him stealing my fries.”

“Don’t even pretend this started with the fries.” Niall laughs, and he flicks his blond hair out of his eyes.

“I bet you’d look good with brown hair,” Louis says impassively. “You should let it grow and just trim it as the blond grows out. It’ll look like you’ve got frosted tips for a bit, and then it’ll all be solid.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Well, look at that. We haven’t even started psych class and you’re already an A+ student.”

Niall makes a face and flips him off. “Fine. Be like that. But I’ll figure out what the issue is, whether you wanna tell me or not.”

 

*

 

It’s the first day of school, and Louis didn’t get into bed until well after two o’clock. He forgot to set his alarm, and he doesn’t wake up until 6:30. Still half-asleep and in a panicked daze, he ambles off for a quick shower before waking Waliyha up and getting her ready for school. Her hair still isn’t finished by the time there’s a honk outside, and Louis curses under his breath as they stagger off the front porch. He’s got a neon pink, scuffed-up backpack hanging over his left shoulder and a ratty old rucksack hanging over his right, with a lint-covered hairbrush tangled into the ponytail his hand makes, fisted in Waliyha’s hair, as they walk toward the road. He does his best to finish combing it as they walk, but it’s awkward, with her steps shorter than his and their pace out of cadence with one another. Louis doesn’t realize that it isn’t Niall’s beaten-up ‘90s model Mazda sitting out front until Waliyha opens the back door and he’s forced to look up and see the crisp, black paint.

Range Rover.

Fuck. Again? Really?

Waliyha looks all too happy as she climbs into the backseat, says, “Hi, Harry,” and punches Niall in the shoulder.

Looking scandalized as Louis pulls the door closed behind him, Niall’s blue eyes narrow at Waliyha. “Th’ hell was that fer?” he practically wails. 

An impish grin on her face, Waliyha buckles her seatbelt and innocently states, “Punch-bug no punch-backs blue!”

Louis didn’t see that Volkswagen in question, but he can’t help but smile smugly, reaching over to finish brushing through her hair. Niall, however, has clearly not moved on. “How in the blinding, everlasting fuck did you get this kid to be so much like you, Lou?” he huffs. “She’s a terror, honestly.”

Waliyha giggles, and Louis cocks an eyebrow, shooting Niall a side-eyed glance. “She’s a Malik, Niall. I don’t know what you expect. We have this conversation like twice a week.”

Harry laughs, and the Range Rover eases out of park and into the street. Louis is almost startled at how easy it was to forget he was even there. He’s wearing a big, dopey grin and Raybans. Louis thinks he could probably fight Harry right then and there, just for looking so damn rich. 

“Well, Niall, all the girls at school think you’re a terror, too,” Waliyha interjects as Louis smooths her hair back into a thick ponytail.

“Bangs, Wali,” he mutters, watching as a proud smile stretches across her lips at Niall’s appalled expression.

“What girls? You’re in like the fifth grade. They don’t know me.”

“Yeah-huh. My friend Audrey Breslin is Other Niall’s sister. She tells us lots of stories about when you go to their house.”

At this, Louis cocks an eyebrow, and Harry actually dissolves into giggles. “What kind of stories?” he asks, smiling at the road ahead of him.

Dammit. Fucking dammit. He already forgot that he wasn’t supposed to be in the Range Rover with Harry. Again. He’s really got to get his attention span under control. Things like this have got to stop happening. Schooling his expression into something more passive than the panic he’s already wearing, Louis asks, “So Niall, is there something wrong with the Mazda?”

“Nope.” He pops the P at the end, and Louis sees Harry glance over at Niall with a bit of a confusion at the shortness of his answer. 

Harry elaborates. “Niall’s coming over to mine tonight, so we just decided that I’d pick everybody up to save him some gas.”

Louis nods slowly. He has a feeling it was more Niall’s idea than Harry’s. Actually, Louis bets Niall vaguely brought up the idea and just let Harry think it was his idea. That would be such a Niall thing to do. 

Louis thought he would be done with Waliyha’s hair by now, but she’s got a tangle in the back that he just can’t get out, and he keeps getting her part crooked. The goal is to give her pigtails, like she asked. He always gets them lopsided, and he’s certain that being in a moving car isn’t going to help much. “Please stop squirming, Wali,” he sighs.

“It’s kinda hard with this seatbelt cutting into me!” she complains.

“Louis, I can do her hair for her when we get to the school.” It’s a surprise to hear that it’s Harry offering and not Niall. Not that Niall would offer - he can barely style his own hair, much less a ten year old girl’s. He and Louis have a lot in common in that respect.

Waliyha turns around fast enough that she knocks the hairbrush out of Louis’ hand. It hits him in the nose, and it takes about a half a second for his eyes to start stinging, a sharp crack to reverberate through the vehicle, and an uncomfortable feeling to announce itself in his left nostril. “Shit. Fucking shit,” Louis huffs, tipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose. Voice sounding a bit like a duck’s, he asks, “Does anybody have any napkins or anything?”

“I’m sorry, Lou!” Waliyha says, eyes wide with panic. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Niall, check the glove compartment,” Harry says, slowly coming to a stop at the traffic light and immediately rifling through the console when the vehicle is at a standstill.

Irish accent heavy, Niall says, “Why the fuck don’t yeh have any napkins, Harold?”

“I don’t usually eat in the car!” he says, eyes wild.

“Harry, the light’s green,” Waliyha says sheepishly, big brown eyes refocusing on Louis. “I’m so sorry, Lou. It was an accident!”

“It’s okay, Wali,” Louis says, wincing at the disgusting feeling of blood running down his throat, nowhere else to go. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Waliyha,” Harry says calmly, “there’s a navy hoodie in the back. Can you unbuckle and get it for Louis?”

“What am I supposed to do with a hoodie?”

“Bleed on it?” Harry suggests.

Before Louis can even protest, Waliyha’s unbuckled and leaning over the back of the seat to snatch the hoodie up. Louis takes the garment skeptically, because it’s awkward but it’s better than drowning in his own nose-blood. In the front passenger seat, Niall is laughing. “I don’t even know what you did,” he says to Waliyha, “but you did a good job of it.”

She blushes harshly, and Louis forces a laugh, muffled under the fabric. “Wali, it’s okay, really. It’s not broken or anything. I was probably gonna have a nosebleed soon anyway, with the weather changing. It’s an allergies thing, you just kinda helped it along.”

Looking uncertain, she says, “But Harry’s hoodie…”

“Nothing the dry cleaners can’t fix,” Harry shrugs from the front seat. 

A few minutes later, they pull over in a grocery store parking lot, and Harry gets out and climbs into the back seat with Waliyha, fishing a fine-tooth comb out of his back pocket to part her hair. He takes the hair ties from Louis, then, sliding them off of Louis’ wrist for him so Louis can keep the hoodie pressed against his face, and in a matter of seconds, they’re off again. When they get to the elementary school, they wave Waliyha off, Harry going the extra mile in subtle nuances to make her think everything’s fine. Then, as soon as Niall rolls up his window and they move forward, Harry glances behind him at Louis. 

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” he asks, looking a bit ruffled. The facade has fallen, and he can see now that Harry’s actually pretty anxious, and Niall isn’t near as composed as he’d been pretending, either. He fidgets awkwardly in the seat in front of Louis. 

Louis stiffens up at that. “I mean, it’s probably broken, but if I go to the hospital, Waliyha will find out and she’ll feel even worse,” he reasons.

“What do you mean, she’ll find out? Just ask your parents not to tell her.” He glances into the backseat again. “Is it still bleeding?”

“Yeah. Listen - I’ll pay for the dry cleaning. I’m so--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It’s a silly jacket. I have plenty of others. I might just throw it away - I don’t really wear it anyway.”

That makes Louis feel worse. He doesn’t like this. He wants to go back to avoiding Harry at all costs and not having conversations about anything. He doesn’t want to feel guilty about something that he knows isn’t even a problem for Harry - he can definitely afford the dry cleaning or a new one. It’s really just so nerve-wracking that he’s being so nice, and he really, truly blames Niall for this.

Louis continues to decline Harry’s offers to turn around and drive him to the hospital. By the time Harry pulls into his parking space, his nose has stopped bleeding, and he assures Harry that he can go to class. When Harry’s expression tells him that he’s going to make a big deal about it, Louis concedes to make Niall go to the nurse’s station with him. Only then does Harry depart from them, shooting the other boys a frown and a half-wave on his way to the academic building. 

The nurse doesn’t get to her office until the bell rings for first block to start, and Louis sighs heavily at Niall, who’s chattering away to keep Louis distracted. By the time the nurse arrives, Louis feels bad enough about it and tells Niall he can go ahead and go to class without him. They have first block together, and he asks that Niall let Mr. Gambini know where he is.

Once Niall is gone, there’s a very uncomfortable amount of poking and prodding going on to determine the status of Louis’ face. He does a lot more wincing than he was prepared for, and he clenches his fist as Miss Branson, the nurse, strips off the latex gloves on her hands and gives him an alcohol swab to clean the leftover blood off his face. She tells Louis his nose is broken and that he should go to the hospital and let them reset it before it heals back crooked, and Louis gets the distinct feeling that he could tell her anything and it would be safe with her. He keeps his secrets to himself instead.

How the hell is he going to explain this?


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! However, happy 420, if you guys are into that! And if you aren't, happy Lima Bean Appreciation Day - at least we have Liam Payne in this day and age to put a smile on our faces.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Courtney

As it turns out, Niall has conjured some wicked story about a thirty year old man cutting Harry off on the way to school and Louis getting out of the car and fighting the guy. People come up to him a few times during the first two blocks of the day and in the hallway to congratulate him on “winning.” Louis isn’t a fighter - he’s a bit fiery sometimes, but he’s never laid his hands on anybody - but he doesn’t have the energy to tell them that his ten year old sister actually broke his nose with a hair brush. 

At lunch, Harry drives Niall and Louis to Niall’s house so Niall can drive Louis to the hospital. He offers to just drive them himself and to skip school for the rest of the day, but Louis waves him off, telling him not to worry about it and that the first day of school is important. Harry worries his bottom lip with his teeth for the whole ride, and Niall tries to tell him they’ve got the situation under control. Eventually, he concedes and leaves them - albeit reluctantly - outside of Niall’s house and heads back toward the high school.

Once they’re safely inside Niall’s car, Louis tips his head back and stares up at the scuffed-up lining of the ceiling. He can feel Niall’s gaze on him, but it’s still a long while before he says anything. When he does, he mutters, “They won’t admit me to the hospital without a guardian.”

Niall sighs heavily. “I know.”

“I can’t tell them. They’ll lose it.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and Louis knows this shit makes Niall uncomfortable. He’s very intelligent, but he doesn’t really like awkward situations like these, always feels the need to make things right. Even when there’s no right answer. Niall values harmony, and Louis can’t blame him for not really knowing what to do with himself. 

After a few beats, Niall slides his hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone, scrolling through his contacts and putting the call in speakerphone. The contact information reads “Mummy” with an orange heart emoji, a white heart emoji, and a green heart emoji. Louis fights the wobbly smile that works its way onto his face. If he weren’t in this predicament at the moment, he’d be taking the piss out of Niall for it. He might anyway, he decides, when the conversation is over.

“Hi, Niall.” It hasn’t really even occurred to Louis that Niall actually is calling Maura until he hears her voice, and then he has to wonder why. He should have asked while the phone was ringing.

“Hi, Mum.” Niall’s voice is far more somber than usual as he says, “Sorry to bother yeh - I know yer busy.”

“I’m actually on lunch,” she says, sounding as non-judgemental as she usually does. “What’s up?”

Niall hesitates, and Louis clears his throat. “Hey, Maura. I broke my nose on the way to school today.”

“What?” Louis can hear her coughing violently. “How in th’ bloody hell did you manage that?”

Louis screws his eyes shut and runs a hand over his face. Just as he’s saying “long story,” Niall is interjecting, “Waliyha, like, punched him in the face with a hairbrush.”

“She did not,” Louis says, making a face and punching Niall lightly in the arm. “It was an accident.”

“Anyway,” Niall clears his throat, “can I just drive Lou to the hospital, or does an adult have to take him?” They both know the answer, but there’s always wishful thinking, Louis supposes.

There’s a long pause before Maura sighs. “Somebody who’s legally responsible for him has to be the one to sign him in. Are you guys sure it’s broken? I would avoid--”

“The nurse said it’s broken and needs to be reset,” Louis says quietly. “I mean, it’s just my nose. It’s not that crooked, I can just - I mean, Troy would probably never even notice that anything happened if I didn’t go to the hospital.”

“Well, Lou, if the nurse says it’s broken, then you do need to get it reset - it can cause you a lot of problems when you’re older if you don’t get it taken care of now.” She sighs again, and Louis wants to actually die. Right here. Right now. “I would take you - you know that - but I have to have proof that you’re mine, Louis. And I don’t, because you’re not.”

Louis’ brain barely skims over the fact that he’s not anybody’s - not really. His fingers twitch, and he stares down at his lap. “So I have to call Troy.”

“Or Belinda,” she agrees.

“I’ll take my chances with Troy. He’s a shit parent, but at least he’s not a total bitch.”

Niall laughs at that, and Louis closes his eyes when Maura says, “Good call.”

He wants to break something in that moment. Niall and his whole family have been so good to Louis ever since they started being friends. They do more than he could ever ask of them. But this is going to be a shitstorm in and of itself. How did he let this happen? It’s not Waliyha’s fault - she’s just a kid - but this is going to turn out less than favorably for everyone involved.

Why, why, why? Why him? Why right now? Why in Harry Styles’s fucking land yacht, and on Harry’s hoodie, and in a way that’s going to make Waliyha feel guilty for the aftermath? He can’t hide this from her, not after Troy and Belinda find out.

Niall finally speaks up. “Maybe you can get it reset after you turn eighteen?”

Maura pipes up then, sounding uneasy. “They would have to rebreak it to reset it by then, and at that stage, it’s probably never going to be fixed without surgery. It’s now or never, Lou. I won’t make you go, but I just want you to understand that it’s what’s physically best for you.” Louis just sighs dramatically, to which Maura says, “It’s almost time for me to wrap up my lunch break, lads. Text me and keep me updated. If you have any emergencies, I can probably worm my way outta work, but you’ll have to have a pretty good excuse.”

Louis wonders if a black eye would be a good enough excuse by her boss’s standards. Probably not, considering he’s not her kid. He ignores the hollow ache in his chest, and he and Niall exchange I love yous with Maura before ending the call. The drive to the hospital is near-silent for about the first fifteen minutes, until Louis finally works up the nerve to call Troy. 

He wishes he hadn’t overslept.

 

*

 

When they were at the hospital, the lights were such a grimy fluorescent that it made Louis feel physically ill. The anxiety gnawing at his insides didn’t help, and by the time they left and Troy had muttered for Louis to tell his friend to leave, Louis was all out of sorts. The car ride to the Austins’ house is silent, until they reach the driveway, and while Louis is staring out the car window at the brownish-tinted grass, Troy draws in a deep breath.

“What the fuck, Louis?” he finally huffs. “I had to take off half a day of work because your dumb ass got hit in the face with a locker door? Are you fucking blind?”

Louis rolls his shoulders back and looks down at his lap, not knowing what to say. It was the only thing he could come up with at the time to keep from ratting Waliyha out. Luckily, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Troy abruptly opens the driver’s side door, climbs out, and slams it shut behind him. Louis sighs heavily and digs his flip-phone out of his pocket, pulling up his most recent texts with Niall. In the last one, Niall suggested they order a ham and pineapple pizza, and Louis just could not have that. Now, arguing about pizza seems a bit ridiculous.

To: Nialler (2:14 PM)  
Hey when Wali gets off the bus can u take her back to ur house and then come pick me up

To: Nialler (2:16 PM)  
Troy’s pretty mad, I’m just gonna go ahead n pack some of our stuff

Louis waits silently in the car as the humidity and sunlight slowly make the vehicle stuffier and stuffier, until he finally has to get out, and even then, he only stands idly by the car door as he waits for Niall’s response. It comes several minutes later, just as Louis is contemplating going inside and doing dishes just to get a fresh glass of water. 

From: Nialler (2: 29 PM)  
OK when i get outta class i’ll go ahead n drop her off at me house is everythin OK

The truth is, Louis really isn’t sure how it’s going to turn out. Troy is definitely mad, but Louis isn’t exactly certain what lengths he’ll go to to make Louis’ life a living hell before Belinda gets home. He could use a cigarette, he thinks, frowning. He quit smoking over the summer, started right after he and Waliyha moved in with Troy and Belinda. It’s not easy, though - he grew dependent upon smoking for stress release, and he wishes he’d never taken it up, because now, his need for a cigarette is practically insatiable. 

To: Nialler (2:29 PM)  
IDK. I’ll let u know when I’m done packing I guess

Finally, Louis shoves his phone into his pocket and shakes his arms out, exhaling deeply. No more cigarettes. Hopefully, if he moves quickly enough, he can pack some of his and Waliyha’s things and be out of there before Troy even realizes he came inside. 

Because Louis is an unlucky bastard, just as Louis sets foot in the dimly-lit hallway, he hears scuttling behind him. He barely has time to turn around before Troy is barreling out of his and Belinda’s bedroom, thin, sunken face somehow brought back to life by rage. 

“What the fuck did you do with it?” he says slowly, inhaling with a sharp puff. His hands are shaking, and he stands stoic. Louis stands with wide eyes, taking in the sight of the man who’s supposed to be his father. Fingers twitching, Louis wonders if he could take Troy if he were to make the first swing. Troy’s in his forties, but his body is far older, from years of manual labor and methamphetamine. Louis is small and quick - even if Troy could beat the shit out of Louis, he’d have to catch him first. In the same moment as Louis’ eyes lock on the front door and he mentally assesses his chances of getting there without endangering himself, a shudder tears through Troy’s body, and he bellows, “You filthy, thieving rat, what did you do with my money?”

Shit. Fucking shit. Troy probably went to look for more money to make up for all the cash Louis’ copay cost at the hospital. Louis didn’t realize that Troy and Belinda might actually be smart enough to keep tabs on how much money is in the tin under their bed. Suddenly, surprising even himself, Louis leaps at Troy and puts his hands up like he might try and get a punch in, and when Troy mirrors his stance, Louis abruptly ducks under Troy’s arm and flings his body forward. It takes him a moment to even let his gaze settle on anything in particular, and he’s stumbling around in the kitchen, not quite sure which direction he’s going when Troy uproots himself to come after Louis with a gruff yell. Louis’ wild eyes finally focus, and he finds the door to his right, relying on pure adrenaline to get him out into the yard, and then to the street, and then a few blocks away. He runs, and he runs, until his lungs feel like a dying extension of his body, and even then, he forges onward. The air is hot and humid, and by the time Louis finds himself on Niall’s doorstep, he’s fairly certain he’ll be needing Niall’s inhaler, stat. 

The Horans keep a spare key inside of one of those terrible Scooby-Doo Chia Pets on their back porch, and when Louis finds it, his hands shake so badly that it takes about four attempts to get it in the lock. His shoes are filthy, and he somehow finds it in himself to toe them off by the door before heading into the kitchen and finding a glass to pour himself some water. 

Two glasses later, Louis is curled up in Bobby’s armchair, covering himself up with a woolly afghan designed to look like the Irish flag. 

To: Nialler (3:19 PM)  
Apparently it’s not OK. I’m at ur house. Will u still bring Wali to ur place?

Louis doesn’t even wait for a response before pushing his phone away from himself and staring up at the ceiling fan, watching it spin round and round. Two years ago, he would have scoffed if someone had told him this would be his life. Now, it’s scary, but it isn’t even surprising.

He wonders for a brief moment what would have happened if Troy had gotten ahold of him. After a few seconds, he decides he doesn’t want to think about it, and he closes his eyes. Sleep never comes, but at least he can pretend.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! Something came up and I've had to switch jobs, and it's just been super hectic. Hopefully, it helps that this chapter is slightly longer than the others! As always, criticism is welcome - and encouraged - as long as it's not ruder than it needs to be! Thanks for reading :)

It gets worse. It gets much worse, actually, because Louis didn’t think this through. Why can’t he ever think this shit through? He thinks he might actually light himself on fire to put himself out of his suffering, get it over quickly and just end it. Because of course he would end up forcing himself into Harry’s presence again. 

Niall was supposed to stay the night with Harry, but when Louis asked Niall to bring Waliyha home and asked if he could stay at Niall’s, that threw a wrench in a plan Louis had completely forgotten about. He was too wrapped up in his own drama to think about what it would do to Niall’s plans, and he was so concerned about getting away from Troy that he didn’t even think about what kind of situation he might be willingly bringing (read: forcing) Niall and himself into. Niall has always had a knack for smoothing over situations and making them seem less daunting or less important, but Louis isn’t sure how Niall is going to pull this off. 

He and Niall text furiously back and forth, and not long after Niall’s fourth block class is dismissed, Niall calls. Louis has been pacing a hole in Maura and Bobby’s carpet, waiting, and he answers on the first ring. He’s freaking the fuck out, because he’s Louis, but he schools his voice into mildly contained composure and says, “What’s up?”

“So I’ve got a plan, but I’m gonna need your full cooperation, ya hear?” Niall’s speech is uncharacteristically hurried, and Louis is less than thrilled at the vaguely urgent tone.

Louis rolls his eyes and stops pacing, dropping his gaze down to Niall’s parents’ living room carpet. It’s a cream color, with a few random stains buried deep down in it from various mishaps and spilled drinks over the years, but it still looks exponentially better than the one at Troy’s. The Horans’ home has always been a happy place for Louis - happy memories with a happy family who welcomed him into their lives with hardly any questions asked. He reckons “full cooperation” is really the least he can do. “Lay it on me.” He throws in a trademark huff to reassure Niall that he hasn’t completely ceased to have a personality.

“I’m invitin’ Harry to stay the night with us.” He sounds almost out of breath, and Louis can practically see him darting through the courtyard and to the main building, where the little kids wait for their older siblings to get out of class. “I don’t know what the fuck else I can do without it being suspicious, so just - be cool. I’ll text me mum and tell her not to act fuckin’ weird about it.”

His knee-jerk reaction is to tell Niall not to worry about it, to go to Harry’s and Louis will handle his own shit. But Louis won’t handle his own shit, actually - there’s nowhere he can really go, and he might just go wander around town for the weekend, but he’s got Waliyha. It would raise more questions than it would answer if he were to leave Waliyha at Niall’s and go off somewhere by himself. There’s nothing that can be done to stop this. Nevertheless, because he’s Louis, he groans, “Niall, is this the only option? Is this really all we’ve got to work with?”

Usually, Niall would laugh, and the hurried flow of his speech startles Louis. “I can see Wali. I gotta go. We’re gonna run by Wendy’s, ya want yer usual?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh - love you, man.” Louis isn’t quite sure where that came from, but Niall just laughs, finally sounding like himself.

“Love you too, Lou. See ya in thirty.”

Louis isn’t prepared for Niall to hang up so abruptly, and he’s not prepared for him to show up with Waliyha and Harry. He feels like a mess, won’t even allow himself to think far enough into anything to dredge up any bad memories. Instead, he does what he always does - calls Zayn.

He idly wonders if Zayn is at Liam’s, or if that’s where he’s going. Zayn has been spending loads of time with his new neighbor, and sometimes he misses Louis’ calls. At this stage, Louis usually texts first, but he doesn’t think he can wait. He loses track of how many times the phone rings and how many times he mutters “pick up the phone, pick up the phone” before he’s put out of his misery.

Louis finds himself drawn to the kitchen sink, where there are still a few dirty dishes from a breakfast Louis didn’t partake in. It’s almost second-nature when he puts the call on speaker, sets it on the counter, and puts a stopper over the drain.

“What’s up?” Zayn’s tone is unreadable, and that’s probably for the best. Zayn knows his brother very well, and Louis has very little hope that he doesn’t already know Louis’ tactics. 

He aims for nonchalance and asks Zayn about his day. Zayn recounts odd happenings and mentions that Safaa has some girls in her class who weren’t very nice to her when they were in her class last year. He tells Louis which classes he thinks will be a breeze, which ones he thinks will be a bit harder, and when he asks Louis, a lump rises in his throat. In the meantime, he’s been scrubbing the dishes with a brillo pad and a sponge so when Louis doesn’t reply for a while, Zayn finally asks, “What’s that sound?”

“Oh!” Louis says, grateful for the shift in conversation. “I’m doing dishes.”

“You at Niall’s?” Zayn knows him too well.

“Yep.” He pops the P at the end, and it hangs in silence for a long while. Then, he adds, “Wali accidentally broke my nose this morning, and I had to go to the hospital.”

“Oh shit. How’d that happen?”

“It was an accident,” is the most explanation Louis gives. He wishes Zayn was here. Rather, he wishes he was with Zayn - he would never hope for Zayn and Safaa to live with the Austins. “Niall took me to the hospital. Troy and Belinda have been cashing our government checks and hiding them in a cookie tin under the bed. Wali found it, and she’s been taking some for a while now, apparently - because it’s our money. Anyway, Troy had to pay the medical bill, and I guess he got home and went to get more money and noticed that some of it was missing. So naturally, I’m the one who took it. We’re staying at Niall’s for the weekend. I don’t know what else to do.”

Zayn remains silent for a long while. “You know if I could have you guys here, I would.”

Louis knows that. Zayn’s foster family - they’re good people, but they don’t have room for two more kids, and it’s a long shot that they could afford them to begin with. Of course Louis and Waliyha have come to visit - Niall took them to visit all the time over the summer and often stayed over himself. The Carters are a nice family with grown children of their own, and they provide more than enough for Zayn and Safaa. But supporting two children is far different from supporting four, and Louis could never impose upon them that way. “‘S not your problem, man,” Louis shrugs to himself, rinsing suds off of the skillet. “I just… don’t know what I’m gonna do. One of Niall’s friends is coming over - we were in Harry’s fucking car when it happened - and he’s gonna know something’s up if we don’t lie really well. And Wali can’t know that I went to the hospital, but because I left school early and she’s with Niall and Harry right now, who knows what kind of conversations they’re having? I--” He stops himself. He’s thinking far too much into this. Instead, he should be thinking about the fact that he missed the first day of school. He should be wondering how much shit his teachers talked about his absence. He should be worrying about all the many other things that are going to affect him by the time Monday rolls around. But he isn’t.

He definitely shouldn’t be burdening Zayn with this right now.

Zayn picks up on his train of thought, and he says, “Listen. If things start to head south tonight, call me. I’ll see if I can get Liam to give me a ride to pick you guys up. If everything goes okay, call me when this ‘Harry’ guy leaves, and we’ll talk about the plan moving forward. Okay? Now, if I remember correctly, you guys get out of school at 3:45, so Niall should be home with Wali anytime now, yeah?”

He’s right - Zayn is always fucking right - and Louis’ stomach turns as he realizes that, any moment now, Niall, pretentious fucking Harry, and a very confused Waliyha could roll up in the driveway. In lieu of a real response, Louis mutters, “Fuck me. Armin shouldn’t have scheduled me off today, Jesus Christ. I could be at work right now, but he thought it would be a good idea for me to ‘get settled back into school.’ Fuck Armin.”

The laugh that comes across the airwaves is startlingly sober, and it pulls Louis out of his fatalistic mental processes. “Z, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking the same thing, actually. Seems like the days they give us to relax just end up being more stressful is all.” Louis’ brain can’t quite comprehend what it is Zayn is alluding to, because he’s been acting like everything is fine, and he reckons he probably isn’t supposed to know. If Zayn wanted him to know, he’d tell him. They’re a lot alike in that respect.

Louis is drawn back to the present by the sound of gravel crunching outside, and his palms go clammy. He abruptly turns off the faucet and practically sprints to the back door. On his way out, he tells Zayn, “Okay, okay, they’re here. I gotta - Tell Safaa I love her.”

“Good luck!” Zayn chirps, uncharacteristically bright. It sounds forced. “Love you, Lou.”

Louis’ just hanging up when he hears the doors to Niall’s shitty car open and close, followed by the crunch of gravel beneath three different sets of feet. Louis creeps around the side of the house, sliding his phone into his back pocket as he goes, and he doesn’t come around the front until he hears the screen door slam shut. He leans against the siding of the house, pressed against a rose bush that’s in need of a trim, and stares out at the road. It isn’t until he’s counted to one thousand that finally starts up the steps, bright smile plastered on his face when he reaches the front door. 

Waliyha’s sitting in the middle of the living room floor, a textbook and a purple notepad spread out in front of her. Niall and Harry are on the couch, both of them nursing beers that Louis knows full well came from Niall’s brother Greg’s stash. Waliyha’s face lights up when she sees Louis, but it’s quickly replaced by a pout - Louis reckons it didn’t take long for her to notice the giant Band-Aid across his nose. Before anyone can say anything, Niall lifts a Corona and raises his eyebrows. 

“Saved one for yeh. ‘S in the fridge if ya want it.”

“Hey, Lou,” Harry says happily, with a four-fingered wave. 

Louis nods pleasantly in Harry’s direction and only mutters under his breath a little bit when he walks into the kitchen, as if he hasn’t been here the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment or leave kudos if you can/want to! Let me know if you have any questions or concerns about the story or the interpretation of the legal system! If I've made any fundamental/problematic mistakes, I would definitely like to know so that I can change them. Most importantly, I hope you're enjoying this so far! There will be weekly updates, unless otherwise specified because I do work full-time and life does sometimes get in the way.


End file.
